


Fits Just Right

by FiccinDylan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (between Isaac and his father), Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Fingering, Beta Isaac, Frotting, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Omega Stiles, Presentation, References to Knotting, Young Derek, excessive body hair in secular places, mentions of abuse, mystery jackson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiccinDylan/pseuds/FiccinDylan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the city of Beacon Hills, most of the teenagers wait for their presentations to tell them if they're alpha beta or omega, <i>patiently</i>.  They simply let mother nature take it's course and understand that once they turn 15 or 16 they'll find out.  </p><p>Jackson is 17 and pretty sure Mother Nature hit the snooze button on his presentation like 20 times by now.  He was getting irritated and it was time for that bitch to get it moving.</p><p>On top of that he has to deal with Stilinski's "don't go chasin' waterfalls' busted tap ass and Derek Hale's knot that's hotter than the fucking sun.  Those two jerks get their presentations before Jackson?  Now how is that fucking fair?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fits Just Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dream_tempo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_tempo/gifts).



> I did this as a personal secret santa for my good friend and I hope he loves it because he deserves the world and so much more and yes I stole a lot of stuff from you but it's stuff that we both loved and talked about at length so I hope you love it, okay?
> 
> Okay.
> 
> ps. Also, even though this is SS, there's only one reference to Santa and it's kind crude. Sorry Santa, can't help that your nose looks like.. well, you'll see.

***

“Fuck yes, Jackson!  You son of a bitch, you know you love it!”  Jackson thrashes his head back and forth trying to stop the onslaught of images from filling his head.  His body is in the throes of deep sleep, but his mind is in an REM nightmare, somehow exactly recreating the events of the day.  Jackson mumbles to himself as he feels phantom cramps in his hand.  He swears he can feel Stiles Stilinski’s sludge dripping down his wrist.  He shudders.

“Yeah, you’re such an ass, but you love it so much, don’t you?  My omega slick just fucking up your fancy manicure?  I’m like a water park down there, like Captain Phillips sailing during the perfect storm on a sea of the finest Exxon crude.  Move your fingers like you’re trying to snap.  Fucking do it, Jackson!”  In his sleep Jackson’s hands flail as he tries to snap with one hand and grab onto the sheets with the other.  Beads of sweat fall down his head as his dream suddenly switches.

“Now squeeze it!  Squeeze it harder, Jackson.  Fuck!”  Derek Hale thrusts into Jackson’s hand and Jackson can feel the heat even in his dream-state.  He tries to squeeze, but it’s not enough in either reality.  “That’s why omegas are the fucking best.  They’re literally made to do this shit, just to milk every fucking drop from my knot.  You’re… shit, Jackson!  You’re… shit!”  

Jackson shoots up breathing heavily and white knuckling his Egyptian cotton sheets.  He sees it’s just him, alone in his room and exhales a sigh of relief.  He looks down at his body, but nothing seems different.  He hasn’t grown a vagina or however becoming an omega works, and he hasn't obtained the need to be a raging knot head asshole so there’s that.  He’s happy either way, but it also means he still hasn’t presented and contrary to his claims, the wait is fucking killing him.

His day had started so normally.  Jackson walked down the hall with the countenance of the morning sun.  His parents have spent a lot of money to obtain this look and he made sure to make every penny count as he walked down the school’s corridor that morning.  Jackson realized early in life that he was beautiful, but he also realized he had a face that made people think it was okay to ask him questions about his junk and why it hadn’t come out yet.  He was… _approachable_ , and polite to a fault.  Normally this wouldn’t be a deterrent, but for Jackson it was a weakness.

As Jackson saw it, the way things worked, teens would basically live their lives as betas until they presented as alpha or omega.  Normally this happened around the age of 15, but for some - Jackson specifically - some teens didn’t present until they were 17 or even 18.  Now a couple of years difference doesn’t seem like such a big deal, but hormones had a way of making time seem longer and making life seem much more unfair.  

To add insult to injury, Jackson was adopted.  Normally you could figure out what you were based on your parents.  Stiles Stilinski had an omega mother whose mother was also an omega.  An alpha father gave the chance of being beta, but Stiles claimed to always feel like he was going to be an omega.  Of course the little shit presented early at 14 which is when his cock stopped growing and his anatomy sprouted a birth canal (or however that worked).

Derek Hale came from a long line of alphas.  And he was a werewolf, so even with an omega father, it was pretty much fated that Derek would be an alpha.  He’ll probably even be the next alpha of his pack if his older sister takes a pass.  He also claims that he could feel the alpha before he presented at 16.  Jackson thinks it may have just been the proverbial stick up his ass, but he knows better than to offer that suggestion before he presents himself.

And this was the crux of the issue.  Jackson doesn’t know his real parents and the adoption records are sealed until he’s 18 so he can’t even see what their designation was to even guess.  Jackson is too good looking, too rich and too popular to be saddled with the designation of “late bloomer” or “beta”.  He knows he’s one or the other and the anticipation is killing him, yes, but the nosiness of the lessers?  That shit is not okay.

Normally he flashes them a cute smile and tells everyone, “Oh you know me, I’m just fashionably late to puberty.” and then he flutters his lashes before leaving their inquiring little minds to bask in the experience of having had Jackson Whittemore acknowledge their presence.  And he wouldn’t mind keeping this up -actually enjoys it a bit- but it fucking bugs him.  Jackson hasn’t had a lot of say in what’s happened in his life so far, so this is the one thing that once his body tells him what he is, he can control the rhetoric.  He can be Jackson- the badass alpha, or he can be Jackson - the in-demand omega.  But now he’s worse than nothing, he’s unknown.  He loves being mysterious, but only if he knows the answer to his mystery!

He walks down the hall, seething with jealousy as he counts on his expensive face creams and custom hair styling products to bely his actual mood.  He sees awkward alphas bustling down the hall trying not to pop a knot at every leaky faucet omega in the halls.  He knows that as soon as he presents he’ll show these assholes how it’s really done.  Until then, the irritable interloper wants to create an atmosphere of being untouchable and for the most part it works.  Most of the omegas look at him like he’s a dreamy piece of meat whose first knot they’re just waiting to ride.  Most of the alpha’s… don’t really look at him, they’re all way too horny and constantly on the prowl for omega.  Jackson thinks he could get used to that too, being a predator, look for some omega to hang off his knot.  He also thinks maybe he could be an omega.  Find himself a rich daddy and travel the world milking some sheik’s knot and being wined and dined.  

Most of these wangs respected Jackson’s position and space, but there was one from each category that got under his skin.  The first was an omega, Stiles Stilinski.  Stiles Stilinski was a mouthy little bitch that could rile up Jackson by just _being_. Jackson could make a list of particular things, but it was really the generic reality of Stiles that pissed Jackson off the most.  He was just so willing to give into his biology.  As soon as the little shit saw he was omega, he would drag his soppy ass all over any alpha that would look his way.  Then he would start running his mouth about being an independent omega and he was going to run his own business someday and blah blah blah.  Jackson only half listened, he was more amused by the fact that Stiles being “independent” would NOT be entirely by choice, because there’s nothing appealing about him.  He had a loud mouth, but he could never back it up.

Even now, as he sasses Jackson on the lacrosse field, the kid won’t shut up despite the fact that Jackson keeps planting him on his ass.

“I’m not scared of you, Jackson!  So you can keep up that posturing shit if you want, but you don’t scare me.  The big, bad question mark!  I love how your presentation doesn’t even want to be stuck with you yet!”  Stiles would have said more if the wind weren’t knocked out of him by Jackson pummeling him onto his back.  Jackson presses his entire weight into Stiles who has the nerve to fucking _smirk_ at him through the mask.  

“Fuck you, Stilinski!  I’m just getting you comfortable with your favorite omega position.  Next time I’ll be sure to make your ankles go behind your head!”  Jackson grunts and starts to stand up satisfied.  Stiles gasps for air and grabs Jackson’s shirt, nearly pulling him back down, but instead using the momentum to hoist himself up.

“I don’t know, Jax.  Looks like an alpha might be in the mix for you.  You’ve got all the bullshit posturing down to a science.”

“You little shit!”  Jackson starts to lunge at Stiles, but his teammates hold him back while Coach yells at them to cool it off.

“Dammit boys, get your shit together!  The new season hasn’t even started and we need you working as one unit.  Stilinski and Whittemore hit the showers and work this out before I work it out for you!”  Coach points at the locker rooms where Stiles is already headed.  Jackson follows slowly behind.

“Jackson, wait!”  Coach runs up to Jackson and put a hand on his shoulder.  “Look kid, I know Stiles gets under your skin, but that’s why I put him in.  He’s nothing compared to the assholes on the opposing team.  If you can’t handle a little ribbing, you’re never gonna make it out there on the field.”  Jackson nods, taking in the words of one of the few adults he respects.  When Coach isn’t being a complete idiot at least.

“Okay coach, we’ll… shit, we’ll figure something out.”

“Atta boy!  Carpe Diem and all of that.  Oh, by the way, you’re still going to go see the Hale kid later, right?”  Jackson nods.  Coach pats his ass with a giant smile plastered to his face.  He takes out his bullhorn and yells to the rest of the players on the field.

“Yippe Ki Yay, mother-”

“Shut yo’ mouth!”

“SHUT UP, GREENBERG, THAT’S THE WRONG MOVIE!”

Jackson shakes his head and walks into the locker room.  It’s unseasonably hot in Beacon Hills and when mixed with humid exhaustion of practice and the non-existent ventilation of the locker rooms, Jackson is having a rough and sweaty day.  He heads inside and sits on a bench, briefly rubbing his hands over his face.  When he looks up through the steam that has gathered from the showers, he’s encountered with Stiles Stilinski’s microcock.

“Fuck Stilinski, get your Jenga junk out of my face!”  Jackson looks at Stiles’ crotch with disgusted fascination until he finally tears his gaze away and locks heated eyes with the fuming omega in front of him.

“What the fuck was that out there today, Jax?”  Stiles shouts as he pokes Jackson in the chest.  Jackson snorts.

“Just keeping you on your toes, Stilinski.  Gotta be alert while you’re out there wetting the bench all season.  I thought maybe if I rough you up, Coach might let you actually see some action on the field.”  Stiles looks at Jackson sideways as if contemplating Jackson’s motives.  Jackson knew that Stiles wasn’t really interested in playing during the games.  He was the only omega on the team and didn’t really want to be pummelled up and down the field.  Jackson loved messing with the little bastard though and reveled in Stiiles’ temporary vulnerability.

“Whatever, Jackson.”  Stiles turns to leave, but Jackson calls out.

“Yeah, anything to keep the benches from rotting under your soppy, wet ass.”  He laughs big and hollow as Stiles turns around.  Jackson is expecting a glare, but suddenly a light seems to go on behind Stiles’ wild, amber eyes.

“So you planting my ass on the field has nothing to do with your non-existent presentation?  I think maybe instead of caring so much about the wood on the bench, you were more concerned with the wood in your pants and how hot it got for my omega bussy.  You hate the fact that you can’t buy yourself a knot and you wanna see what the big deal is, am I right?”  Jackson can feel his ears go red as he tries to distract himself pulling things out of his bag.

“You know what?  Fuck you, Stiles!  Ever since you grew a vag and your cock turned into an oversized clit-” _or however it was that worked,_ “-you’ve been nothing but an omega _bitch_.  I push you over because I can and even if I do present as an omega I’ll still be more desirable than your skinny, shrimp dick ass!”  Jackson huffs as he tries to buy time pulling out his shower caddy and a towel.  Stiles comes closer, but Jackson pointedly ignores him.

“Jackson you’re pathetic.  You knew exactly what you were doing to me on that field and now I’m fucking wet with no one to appreciate it so fuck you!”  Stiles shoves Jackson who is still avoiding his gaze, yet he gives a small huff.

“What are you talking about Stilinski?  A little roughhousing activated your slick switch?”  Jackson sneaks a peek towards Stiles and he can streaks of slick sliding down the back of Stiles’ thighs.  Stiles lifts one leg up and slightly crouches sitting on the bench.  As he stands back up, several sticky strings of slick follow him.  Jackson’s breath catches as he stares.

“Yeah Jax, that’s just after a little field work, imagine me in my heat.  I’m so wet, it’s like a car wash in a hurricane down there and now I’m all hot and bothered and wet and there’s no one to enjoy it, or is there?”  Stiles cocks an eyebrow at Jackson who looks around the room before realizing Stiles is talking about him.  By the time he turns his head back around, it’s too late.  Stiles has his hand and is tucking four of Jackson’s fucking fingers into the anals of his wet quicksand ass.

It was so hot, and so _tight_ , and Jackson just sat there and… and, just _took_ it.  His dick was throbbing in his shorts as Stiles made breathy, desperate sounds to match the squelching noises of Jackson inside of him.

“Unnf, oh my god, Jax.  Crook your ring finger, oh god, just like that.”  Stiles moaned as he used Jackson’s hand and pulled at his own nubby dick and tweaked his nipples with his other hand.  Jackson swears he can feel the skin on his hand start to wrinkle and he wonders if maybe he’ll be an alpha because although he would never admit it?  This was working for him.  He could probably get a better omega; someone with more class and a bigger dick than Stiles.  And better grooming, the kid looked like he had Chewbacca in a leg lock, but overall this wasn’t bad.  Shit, maybe it was happening now?  

Sweat fell in streams down Jackson’s face and he felt a tingling in his body and a familiar burn at the base of his spine.  He reached into his pants and grabbed his dick, willing the knot to form so he could shove it in this omega’s asshole (which was almost as big as his _mouth_ ).   But as Jackson got more and more aroused, his dick stayed the same.  He still wasn’t presenting and he was pretty sure that if Stilinski’s desperate hormones weren’t enough to kick things into alpha overdrive than nothing was.  Jackson looks at Stiles -who is still bouncing on his hand- in reverent repulsion.  He lifts up his foot and nudges Stiles off and away from his hand.  He resists the urge to smell and lick his hand and instead wipes it on his shorts.  Stiles whines.

“You son of a bitch, you know you want this.”  Jackson sneers.

“The next time my parents tell me they want to vacation in the rainforest I’ll send them a picture of your ass and tell them I’ve already been.”  Jackson retorts.  Stiles pouts and turns around, bending over showing his leaking hole to Jackson.  He then nearly pumps his entire fist inside of himself and Jackson watches in aroused horror as Stiles comes on the bench and gushes from his hole.  The slick slides down Stiles’ wrist and he turns around to stand in front of Jackson.  He gives him a curt grin and slaps him in the face, rubbing his hand and slick all over the boy’s skin.  

“Come see me if you present as alpha.  Otherwise, if you don’t like it, stop dry humping me on the field, you piece of shit.”

Jackson grunts and Stiles walks away to the showers.  Jackson runs to the sink and begins to rinse off his hand and skin and wipes down before throwing on some clothes and leaving.  No way was he gonna shower here.  He’d just wait until he got home after he went and saw Derek.

***

Derek was the alpha that got under Jackson’s skin.  The kid was so aloof and just so effortlessly cool.  Jackson’s cool took a lot of effort.  He had a skin regimen in the morning and evening and would make endless videos of himself to study the way he looked at people.  Derek didn’t seem to do any of that.  He had a genuine smile and people actually liked and respected him.  He made Jackson nervous.  

Derek had some crazy shit go down at his old school with a crazy ex-girlfriend who tried to kill him or something.  Jackson didn’t really pay attention to the story, but he knew that Derek was the lacrosse star at his old school and had taken them to State 2 years in a row.  Jackson had seen him play and as team captain went with Coach to visit Derek at his old school while they handled the transfer requests.  The kid was good and Jackson knew that he’d have to shape up to keep the co-captain spot.  

That was the thing about Derek.  You didn’t mind coming in second because you always knew that’s where you would be.  He was taller and broader than Jackson, but not intimidatingly so.  He had boyish charm and even a touch of baby fat left over, though it was quickly getting overtaken by pecs with a sprinkling of raven colored chest hair and some nicely developing abdominals.  The guy was cute, but more importantly he was _pre-hot_.  He had so much potential and everyone loved that.  Jackson felt like he’d reached his beauty prime and all he was doing was maintaining.  Derek was a work in progress and Jackson knew someone was just waiting to claim to be the one who facilitated his entry into hotness superstardom.  

“I don’t know, man.  I mean, I know a few omegas are interested, but I’m just gonna let my hormones lead me on this one.  When the one is around, I’ll know and I’ll act on it then.”  Derek would say this as an explaination when Jackson told him about all the omega sluts ready for him at school.  And like, who even says zen, adult shit like that?  Just gonna let Mother Nature take over?  Jackson felt like Mother Nature has been hitting snooze on his life for the past 17 years and he was sick of it.  Jackson shook it off as he entered the Hale house and went up to Derek’s room.

“Hey man, I brought the order forms for the uniform and- Jesus! What the _fuck_ , Derek?”  Jackson was pushed up against the door, being sniffed and _eww_ , licked?  “Fuck Fido, get off of me.”  

Derek growls lightly before releasing Jackson.  “Why do you smell like that?”  Jackson looks at Derek confused until he fully remembers that as a werewolf, Derek has a crazy ass nose.  Also as a werewolf alpha, he can probably smell Stiles’ turgid clunge all over him.

“Fucking Stilinski.”  Jackson offers as explanation.  He continues when Derek simply crosses his arms across his chest and cocks an eyebrow at him.  “He’s a bench wetter- I mean warmer.” Jackson knew to be a bit more diplomatic.  Werewolves had this thing where they treasured omegas and didn’t like it when people spoke disparagingly of them.

“Are you trying to bed an omega?  I thought you hadn’t presented yet, you’re an alpha?”  Derek asks suspiciously sniffing at Jackson.  Jackson -feeling just _so_ violated- waves his hands at Derek.

“Stop that man, no!  I haven’t presented yet, but I don’t think I’m an alpha-”

“So you asked him to get his slick all over you so you can smell like an omega?”  Jackson balks.

“What?  Why would I do that?  No, just shut up and listen!  Stilinski’s the only omega on the team.  He’s pretty active in practice, I’ll admit he helps keep the guys in shape, but he keeps to himself during games.  Stays on the bench, like he’s a delicate flower.  I swear, he’s such a textbook omega, so pale and fragile.”  Derek looks Jackson up and down slowly before sitting on the edge of his bed and motioning  Jackson to the office chair.

“You realize the real reason he doesn’t play during the games, right?”  Derek asks, watching Jackson, trying to determine if he really is as ignorant as he’s putting off.  Jackson simply shrugs as Derek sighs.

“He knows you guys, grown up with you and is comfortable around you.  An opposing team full of unfamiliar alphas is going to throw his hormones all out of whack, and if he’s exerting himself… I mean, shit, Jax.  It’s not rocket science.  There’d be a fucking riot.”  Jackson thinks about some away team trying to gangbang Stilinski and shakes his head.

“No man, I don’t see it.  Stilinski is so fucking bush league.  He’s barely got any body hair except when you open his asscheeks it looks like he’s got a merkin factory with a high demand.  I swear my fingers nearly got tangled in the forest of hair down there.  He’s got more bush in the crack of his ass than the entire Australian outback.”  Jackson laughs to himself and sees Derek grinning.  His eyes are slightly dilated, but Jackson ignores it, just happy he’s able to keep talking about that pissant omega like this in front of the alpha.  “He’s got this tiny microcock and he’s skinny and pale so it looks like Santa’s nose sticking out of Castro’s beard!”  Jackson laughs until he’s shoved face first against the back of Derek’s door with Derek shoved hard into his back, breathing hotly into his ear.

“You said you knew you weren’t an alpha and I can see that, because if I would have seen that fucking omega I would have _wrecked_ him.”  Derek grinds his erection against Jackson’s ass and Jackson wonders for a moment (as his own erection grinds against the door) if he’s going to start self lubricating.  Maybe he was an omega?

“Maybe you are an omega,” Derek says as he unzips his own pants and then slides down Jackson’s.  He pokes smoothly at Jackson’s hole while rutting his erection on the back of his thigh.  “No slick yet, I guess we’ll just have to make due.”  Derek grabs Jackson by his shirt and throws him on the bed, quickly straddling the boy and grabbing some lube out of his side table.  He drops some on the back of Jackson’s legs and rucks him up the bed, positioning his now leaking cock in between the mystery man’s thighs.  He pumps slowly, draping himself around Jackson’s quivering frame.

“Look at you, like a fucking petal, so delicate.  You’d make such a pretty omega, but we both know you’re not.  If you were you’d be fine with that perfect mouthful of cock you described this Stilinski kid having.  You’d be so happy to let an alpha have some place to wipe their mouth while they were eating out your juicy center and preparing you for their hot knot.  Speaking of which.”  Derek’s knot started to form hard and hot between Jackson’s legs.  The boy finally let out a cry, unable to take the heat.  He pushed at Derek who rolls off of him and immediately begins coming into the air; humid droplets bursting from him and falling where they may.  

Jackson feels like he’s under a malfunctioning sprinkler because this fucker just keeps coming.  Ropes and ropes of thick, milky white liquid pour from his gesticulating body, ruining Jackson’s Armani shirt.  For some reason though, he’s having a hard time moving.  He’s sure some of it is because this is the second time today he hasn’t gotten to come, and some of it probably has to do with Derek’s red alpha eyes flashing every time another stream of jizz is pulled from him.  

Derek snarls, grabbing Jackson’s hand and putting it in his mouth, laving it thoroughly with his tongue.  Jackson watches him in disturbed awe.

“Dammit, Derek!  I swear I washed my hands, but evidently that shit just permeates the skin.  Dude stop, come on!”  Jackson’s drags his hand out of Derek’s mouth who chases it briefly before collapsing back on the bed with a sigh.  His cum is simply leaking out of the tip of his cock now, indicating a lull in coming.  In a knotting situation, an omega would continue to milk his alpha, bringing them both pleasure, but without the squeezing action, young alphas just end up with what amounts to blue balls.

“Jackson, you just have to be such an ass.”  Derek says as he pants his way back to lucidity.  Jackson scoffs.

“I’m a piece of shit, you said so yourself.”  Derek shakes his head and grabs Jackson’s hand, this time simply holding it.

“I didn’t call you a piece of shit, Jax.  I was going to say that you were amazing, but I chickened out and just punctuated my sentence with shit.  Your problem is that you choose to be an ass when you can be so much more.  So it makes people not want to tell you that you’re amazing because you’ve already let it be known that you’d rather be an ass.  Which is a stupid choice because we both know that’s not what you want.  Its not who you are!”  

Jackson looks at Derek carefully, “You don’t even fucking know me, Derek.  It’s not who I am?  Well then who am I?  What am I?  Either I’m some brainless knothead alpha or I’m some passive submissive dirty train omega?”  Derek sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed.

“First of all, I’m sure there are variants.  I’m not brainless and that omega you described doesn’t sound at all passive or submissive.  Stop hiding behind walls and maybe you won’t get crushed when they get knocked down.”  Jackson finally pulls his hand away from Derek, but not unkindly.

“Alright, Yoda.  Whatever.”  Derek stands up and goes to his bathroom, coming back out with a warm wash cloth.  He wipes down himself and Jackson allows him to wipe down his thighs.  Derek runs his tongue briefly along Jackson’s cheek and kisses him lightly.  Jackson’s green blue eyes, meet Derek’s dark hazel ones.  He looks away quickly, fiddling with the keys to his Porsche.  Derek walks to his door and opens it, chaperoning Jackson out.

“I’ll see you at practice on Friday, right?”  Jackson nods as he walks past Derek.  “Oh! And you’re totally gonna introduce me to that omega.”  Jackson doesn’t look back, he simply huffs and shakes his head.

“Don’t shake your head at me, Jax! That kid’s scent is fucking unreal, I want him front and center when I get on the field.  Gonna impress him with my goals and shit.”  Jackson laughs and shrugs.

“Your funeral, man.  That kid is a handful.”  Derek winks at him.

“Sounds exciting.”  Jackson flips him off as he gets in his car.

“Whatever.  Later loser.”

Jackson went home, had dinner, fucked around on the internet and finally jacked off before falling into a restless sleep and dreaming about hirsute omega snatch and aggressively feverish alpha knots.  He wakes up with dark circles under his eyes, clammy skin and still no presentation.  He adds another hour to his regimen to make up for the loss.  

***

It’s Friday which means Derek’s first day on the field.  He walks over to Jackson as Coach introduces him.

“Alright you jokers, this is the kid who’s going to take us to state so be accommodating and don’t suck!  Jackson, introduce him to first line and the goalies and Stilinski.”  Coach trails off, yelling at Greenberg for some infraction and Derek pokes Jackson to introduce him to Stiles who is standing nearby talking with one of the players.

“Hey, _Shitlinski_.”  Stiles is about to roll his eyes, but stops when he sees Derek putting Jackson in a headlock.  

“We don’t call omegas any variation of _shit_ , Jax.  It’s impolite.”  Stiles breaks out into a wide grin and laughs.  He doesn’t extend his hand, just walks up to Derek and stares deeply into his eyes.  Derek releases Jackson and shoves him away before respectfully crowding Stiles against the bleachers.  

“Hey.”  Stiles beams and reaches out to trace the insignia on Derek’s uniform.

“Hey.”  Jackson groans and limps away, massaging his neck.

Throughout practice, Derek showboats and Stiles cheers him on.  They square off and land with Derek on his back and Stiles’ straddling him.  The Coach stands nearby with his whistle tucked in the pout of his mouth, but unable to blow.  Stiles leans over and whispers something to Derek before standing up and pulling up his mate.

“We’re gonna hit the showers, Coach.”  Coach spits out his whistle.

“Stilinski, we only have 10 minutes left!  Hale! Come on!”  Derek shrugs and gives thumbs up to the other hooting alphas and betas on the field as Coach throws down his clipboard and yells at the team to run suicides until Derek gets back.  If he comes back.

As Jackson runs he thinks maybe he’ll just keep running until he can’t run anymore.  And maybe by then his presentation will have caught up.  Or may it isn’t trying to find him, maybe he’s supposed to find it?  Regardless, he feels incomplete without it.  As much as Derek and Stiles annoy the shit out of him, they’re both completely in sync with their presentation.  Derek’s an alpha and he fits in that.  Stiles is an omega and despite being the hoarder of so many idiosyncrasies, he fits in that too.  Jackson doesn’t feel like he fits in either and that fucks him up.  If he’s neither of them, then he’s nothing.

He finishes up with practice, hits the showers and heads towards his car.  In the parking lot he sees Derek and Stiles making out against the Camaro.  Derek parked it right next to Stiles’ Jeep.  He probably smelled it coming into the parking lot.  Jackson watches for a moment before heading home.  

He trudges inside, ignoring the greetings of his parents as he makes his way upstairs.  He opens the door and sees his Friday visitor.  In a world where Jackson Whittemore wasn’t a dick, it could be said that Isaac Lahey is his best friend.

“Sup, assface.  Your girl ditch your sorry ass tonight?”  Jackson claps Isaac on the back while he sets down his book bag.  He looks back at Isaac who is flipping him off with one hand, and flipping through a magazine with the other.

“Every fucking Friday with you, Witty.”  Isaac says.  He’s laying in Jackson’s bed leafing through a fashion issue of some imported rag, and trying to decide which one of Jackson’s turned down pages to mock first.  “I come over to offer my love and support after your long tough week where no one understands the poor little privileged rich boy and all you have for me are insults and barbs.”  Isaac finally looks up at Jackson -still flipping him off- and smirks.  

Isaac is Jackson’s favorite.  A plain old beta who has lived across the street from Jackson for years now.  Isaac’s dad is an ass so he gets bussed to a Military focus school halfway out of town.  He and Jackson used to hang out all the time, but now since their school schedules are so different, they only really see each other Friday nights and Sunday afternoons.  Though Jackson is pretty open with Isaac, he’d never be able to tell him how much he misses his best friend, even though he already knows the tow-headed, curly haired boy already knows.  Isaac has a way of grounding Jackson, and this once or twice a week bullshit just won’t play.  Jackson pushes Isaac over and plops on the bed next to him.

“You love the abuse, _Lay-me_.  Makes you feel like a kid again.”  Isaac spits out a laugh and leans into Jackson, hitting him with his own pillow.  Isaac’s dad being an ass was not an understatement.  Jackson remembers several times involving Isaac coming over with black eyes and swollen lips only to have his WASPy ass parents offer to take the boy off of Mr. Lahey’s hands for the weekend.  Of course they said it figuratively, but they meant it literally.

Isaac was determined not to become some victim or statistic and that’s what Jackson admired most about him.  He knew it still affected Isaac, but sometimes a crass joke was enough to give him the kick in the ass he needed to keep going.  

They roughhouse a little until Jackson leans back with his hands behind his head and sighs.  Isaac shifts to his side and watches him.

“Let me guess, presentation woes?”  Jackson’s eyes scanned Isaac’s face wondering how he could possibly know.  He wasn’t surprised though, although that surprised him.  It was weird to Jackson that he just noticed how much Isaac knew him.  He wondered if Isaac loved him?  He knew in that very moment that he loved Isaac.  Jackson blinks and looks back at the ceiling.

“It’s just that, I hate not knowing!  Alpha or Omega, what am I?  I feel like if I know I can prepare and not be blindsided when it happens.”  Isaac looks Jackson up and down and sniffs him slightly.  He’s not a werewolf, but is fascinated by their habits, so sometimes he acts a little feral.  Jackson actually finds it a little endearing.  He may even introduce him to Derek as soon as Derek gets his snout out of Stiles’ beehive.  Isaac looks at Jackson expectantly and Jackson realizes he missed something that was said.

“What?”  Isaac rolls his eyes and speaks again.

“I said, why are you so worried about being an alpha or omega?  I hear that you can just kind of tell, or feel it.  I basically knew I was going to be a beta when it happened.  Honestly, Witty, if you don’t feel anything extreme, you’re probably just a beta.  What’s wrong with that?”  There was plenty wrong with that.  It was Jackson’s greatest fear.  

“I don’t want to be _just_ a beta!  What the fuck does that even mean?  It’s not the coolness of an alpha or the irresistibleness of an omega.  It’s just plain in the middle, it’s _nothing_.  I’d rather be identified by something that I don’t have control over than try to distinguish myself when I have nothing to set myself apart, shit!”  Jackson didn’t notice he was wringing his hands until Isaac placed his own on top of them.  He squeezes them and Jackson looks deep into his blue gray eyes.  

“Witty, look.  I’m sure there’s drama on both sides.  If you’re an alpha, sure you get to posture and play badass, but you still have to submit and place your omega on a pedestal.  If anyone is on a pedestal in a relationship, it’s you.  So you being an alpha is out.”  Jackson starts to smile softly as Isaac runs his thumb over his friend’s knuckles.

“If you’re an omega you gotta put your alpha’s needs ahead of your own.  And you take great care of yourself, Witty.  I don’t see you giving a shit about some grown ass person who should be able to take care of themselves.  So being an omega?  Definitely out for you.” Jackson is fully grinning now as he shifts slightly to face Isaac.

“So neither of those things sounds like you, which is why you’d be an amazing beta.  There’s so much more freedom and versatility as a beta.  I mean, god bless the alphas and the omegas.  They keep us going strong and they’re entertaining as fuck, but that’s not for you.  You’re not going to live a life defined by biology, Jackson!  You’re special, even when you’re perfectly ordinary.”  Jackson laughs and nudges a tear from his eye.  Isaac sweeps a thumb across the boy’s cheek before placing his hand over his heart.

“Let me show you?  How special you are?”  And Jackson looks at Isaac for a short moment before nodding.  Isaac leans in and presses their lips smoothly together.  There’s no movement, just the press of soft, plump lips against each other, wisps of hot air blowing over them from their noses.  They don’t close their eyes, they just look into the other until slowly the corners of their mouths start to pull up.  

Jackson throws his head back and laughs.

“You fucking assface!  You’re such a dick!”  Jackson grabs the back of Isaac’s neck and crushes their mouths together in a tangle of teeth and tongues and lips.  They make love and it’s everything that Jackson expects and needs.  It’s fantastic, and a little animalistic, and all about him.  He’s not afraid to demand what he wants and Isaac is more than willing and able to give it to him.  His dick is perfect, his ass is dry, his body fits well with Isaac’s, over and under.  And that night they fall asleep wrapped in each other, completely sated and peaceful.

Jackson sleeps so deeply he doesn’t even remember his dream.  He wakes up the next morning and feels the sun shining on his bare front and Isaac wrapped around his back.  He reaches back and pinches Isaac’s ass absentmindedly watching a family of birds outside his window.

“Fuck Witty, you’re even an asshole in the morning, go back to sleep.”  Jackson strokes his beta bestie’s hair at his temple.

“Beta.”  Isaac removes his nose from the crook of Jackson’s neck and nuzzles his cheek.

“What?  Yeah?”  Jackson nods.

“I’m not an asshole.  I’m a beta.”  Isaac shrugs.

“Well, at the least you’re an asshole beta.”  Jackson laughs and pushes at Isaac and the two fake wrestle until Isaac has his love bracketed in his arms.  He kisses him softly on his lips, his nose, his forehead and both cheeks.

“Congrats, beta.  I’m proud of you.”  Jackson beams up at Isaac whose eyebrow suddenly cocks.  “Make sure they have those bacon wrapped figs at the ceremony.”  Jackson pinches Isaac’s nipple as hard as he can.

“Who says you’re even invited you trailer trash beta bitch!”  They get up running around the room and into the bathroom where they get ready for the day.  Jackson has to go tell his parents and then go to the doctor’s for his official papers, but he doesn’t care.  He’s a beta today, but more importantly, he’s Jackson.  And for once, it’s just right.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Jenny, for taking time out of sleeping to co-beta this for me! All regular mistakes are mine.
> 
> Come hit me up on Tumblr! [FiccinDylan on Tumblr](http://ficcindylan.tumblr.com)! Thanks for stopping by, feel free to leave kudos and comments!


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